


Gone in the Riptide

by PrinceOfAether



Category: Vance Joy (Musician)
Genre: Death, Forbidden Love, Hurt No Comfort, Inspired by Music, Love, Riptide, hitman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22902856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceOfAether/pseuds/PrinceOfAether
Summary: Inspired by the comment of a user on a Riptide cover, this short story quickly flows through the rise and fall of a hitman's love.
Kudos: 3





	Gone in the Riptide

It felt like it all happened just yesterday, speeding across the dead deserts of the west with the police on my tail. One simple mistake had nearly ended my life; never return to the scene of a crime. I was lucky they never caught my profile that night. On the way to New York I called in my success, and just a few days later I had my pockets full of cash. Most of it would go towards the next contract, but just as every jazz musician claimed, New York was a place of unimaginable opportunity. Opportunity that wasn’t always practical.  
I was supposed to meet a man at a fine party held on the harbor, but then I met her. A face so fair it had to have come from heaven, and the voice of an angel. I’d never fallen in love before, I was always too scared. A voice in the back of my head always told me that I’d lose someone the moment I fell for them.  
I should have listened to that voice.   
She had approached me first, flirty and prying. I was so lost in those eyes; I almost told her everything. Once the party had died down and the top dogs had left, she took my arm with a delicate touch and escorted me out. I didn’t resist.  
Four years later, I had left my work behind and dedicated my life to her. She had shared the sentiment, and on that same harbor I knelt before her and proposed. Her acting career only flourished, and she started to attract the attention of paparazzi. It was dangerous for me to be caught in the camera, but I couldn’t be prouder to have called her my wife and walk by her side. We had a child, a beautiful daughter, as independent as her mother, and as dedicated as her father. I was enjoying the peaceful life, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever. It couldn’t. With a history like mine, there’s always something out there ready to stab you in the back.  
Another couple years went by. Her sister offered to take care of our daughter while we visited the west coast. I wish I had said goodbye to her.   
They found us. It was inevitable.

They walked down the pier, with interlocked arms. Her head rested on his shoulder as the dark waves gently lapped at their feet, gently illuminated by the moon.   
“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?” She whispered into his ear.   
He hummed in reply, though it ended in a sad note. He looked at her with sorrowful eyes. This would be the last time they’d be here. The last time they spoke. The last time he’d ever look into her eyes.   
“What’s wrong,” she asked, frowning with worry.  
His voice caught in his throat and his eyes stung. “Nothing,” he whispered, choking on the word. He gave her a reassuring smile, which fell the moment she looked away, a comforting smile on her lips.  
He stood still, caught on the will to do what needed to be done. She gave him a quick kiss then ran to the end of the pier with a happy laugh. A happy laugh that made the world just a little bit brighter. He tried to smile, but the sorrow was pulling down at his face.   
“Come on, slowpoke,” she called back to him with a joyful face that would never leave his thoughts again.  
It was just like every job. Point and pull.   
A lone shot rang out in the night sky. It hit true.  
He never missed.   
A short cry, a sound that haunted his dreams, the splatter of blood blending with the sea spray, and a small thump as she fell to the ground. Dead.  
Tears streamed down his face as he dropped the pistol. He collapsed to his knees, a million thoughts colliding in his head like the clashing waves. Every moment they had spent together, every thought and idea they shared gone. Just like that. Their daughter was an orphan. He sobbed even as he stood up, struggling on weak legs to walk to her cold body. A magician’s box, used in shows to make a person appear to disappear, had been left here by a friend to be her coffin. Lifting her limp corpse, he gently let it rest in the hidden compartment. He closed his eyes; he couldn’t look at her. He didn’t have the right to look at her. Lively eyes now lifeless…  
Pained screams tore through the night, and the wind howled with him. His voice grew sore and his yells weaker, until he was left sobbing over her tomb, a locked box, unfit for the light of his life, snuffed.   
Tears still stained his face as he made the final push into the ocean.   
And the dark waters of the riptide pulled her down.

But the world was still turning. There was no rest for the weary. One step at a time, one bullet at a time, one death at a time, he could at least make the world a little better for his daughter.  
It’s what she would have wanted.

There she is, just a few feet away from me, safe behind a solemn crowd, and singing with the same angelic voice of her mother. She wouldn’t recognize me. Very least in this state. Oh god… it hurts. They’ll find out where I am soon. Have to get away. They can’t find my daughter. At least let her live. Just a few more steps. Breathe, dammit! Breathe…  
Her song, a distant memory, the last thing I’ll ever hear. It’s a murder ballad. One I’m too familiar with.

…

I’ll see you soon.

**Author's Note:**

> The parody of inspiration: 'putting a spin on riptide - egg' by mylifeisayolk  
> The comment of inspiration: "My interpretation of the song ...  
> He was a hitman, the police where on to him so he moved to New York. He meet a beautiful rich lady, they dated for a while till he proposed. They went on vacation to The west coast. He loves her dearly and was proud of her for being a actor but he knew if he stayed with her they would come after him and her, so later in the night he took her back to the beach, there was a nasty rip tide. He didn’t say anything because he knew he would cry, he then shot her, stuffed her in a “magicians” box, locked it and threw it off of a pier. He then fled the state and the process continued. The song is sung by the lady’s daughter who used her mother’s story as fame" by Malina Bhola


End file.
